


A Light Show

by NeighborhoodCatGang



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Smut, Teasing, a little bit of dom/sub, mutual masturbation a little bit, obviously, oil show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27342130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeighborhoodCatGang/pseuds/NeighborhoodCatGang
Summary: Legolas and Gimli have... an evening planned.There's rules. There's dicks. There's an oil show.What more could you ask for?
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 9
Kudos: 35
Collections: Gigolas FuckFest 2020





	A Light Show

**Author's Note:**

> My submission for Gigolas FuckFest 2020!
> 
> Please be gentle its my first time.
> 
> My fiance suggested naming this "Snow White and the Hung Dwarf" so. You're welcome for that.

Legolas draped himself over the chair and did his best to wait patiently, just like they had discussed. His husband would be home soon and Legolas wanted tonight to go perfectly for a number of reasons, not least of which was the reward he would get if it did. But dwelling on that - on the way Gimli’s broad, calloused hands would roam over his body as Legolas filled him up and rammed him into the mattress - was perhaps the best way to get himself to ruin it. There were rules tonight. He had to behave. Thankfully, he wasn’t kept waiting for long. The door clicked open and their house was suddenly filled with the sounds of Gimli’s arrival. Boots clomping around, items being set down, buckles coming deftly undone. Legolas wanted to rush out to the entryway, scamper up to his husband and plaster him with kisses. But he forced himself to wait in his chair. There were rules. He had to behave. 

Finally, (heavens finally) Gimli’s boots brought him to the door of the bedroom and he smiled as he said, “there’s my gorgeous husband.”

In Legolas’s humble opinion, he did an excellent job feigning nonchalance as he replied “welcome home my love,” even though he was trying telepathically to compel the dwarf to scoop him up, deliver him to the bed, and absolutely ravish him. Gimli just looked so sexy in work clothes, all leather and canvas and self-assured competence. It wasn’t fair. His own silk robe - the lovely olive one he had worn for their wedding night - just didn’t have the same air of command. It seemed to be working its subtle magic on Gimli, however, who’s eyes were just completing a slow, luxurious circuit of Legolas’s body. Legolas let one knee fall to the side, so that the robe split and fell softly from his thigh, just in case his husband hadn’t seen well enough the first time. He was rewarded with a dark flash of hunger in Gimli’s eyes and a short, inadvertent step forward, like he couldn’t wait to get a faceful of smooth elven skin. Something fiery and delicious shot through Legolas’s belly at that look, and he fought the urge to squirm in his seat. Instead he leaned forward, reaching for his husband with one hand. 

“Come kiss me.” Ever the gentleman, Gimli took Legolas’s hand in both of his, strong and tender and rough from the day’s work, and brushed a delicate kiss to his knuckles. The gentle scratch of his whiskers gave way to the soft press of his lips, almost reverent on Legolas’s hand. “I meant a real kiss,” he pouted, “can I have at least one?”

“That was a real kiss, husband of mine. And remember what we agreed? Don’t you want this night to be… rewarding?”

Legolas did squirm this time, just a little. The tongues of dwarves held far too much silver. Rules. Behave. But now that Gimli was in front of him, looking as delicious as he did, Legolas was beginning to appreciate that the promised reward would just be icing on the cake tonight. Gimli was going to… perform for him. He hadn’t been very specific about it, preferring to keep the details as a surprise, but once Gimli decided to do anything he would never settle for doing it poorly. Anticipation flared in Legolas’s chest and flew straight to his groin as Gimli released his hand and reached for the buckles holding his outer garments closed.

Dwarves dressed (to elven sensibilities) in truly excessive numbers of layers. The first fell away, revealing no more of Gimli’s skin than before but allowing the shift of his muscles to show clearly as he sauntered deliberately around the room, now loosening various ties and laces. He may have traded his warriors physique for a craftsman’s build, but the change was by no means a downgrade. Not to Legolas, who eagerly watched the flex of his husband’s back as another garment fell away. The next one to drop revealed considerably more skin dusted with coppery curls. It was Legolas’s first real test of the night. He was accustomed to touching his husband as much as he liked - scratching his fingernails up those thickly corded forearms to grip playfully at his biceps or dance his fingertips across his broad shoulders - but not touching was one of tonight’s rules. So Legolas had to content himself with imagining the feel of Gimli’s thighs under his palms when finally the breeches slid from his hips, leaving him in his undergarments. The memory, combined with the view of his thick, powerful legs, was enough to push Legolas past the mild, anticipatory chub he had been sporting since Gimli’s arrival into a full erection, very obviously tenting the front of his robe. He had the privilege then of seeing Gimli’s own cock stir and thicken behind his loincloth as he turned to find what a state Legolas was in.

Legolas let his gaze rake over his husband’s chest and trunk, drinking in his strength and poise before dipping back to where his hands were baring the last, most tantalizing patch of skin. Gimli’s cock bobbed invitingly as it sprang free of its confines, and Legolas had to swallow the sudden flood in his mouth, somehow stronger now that he knew he couldn’t touch.

“My love.” Gimli held out his hand. “Your belt.” Unquestioning, Legolas untied the sash of his robe and slipped it from around his waist to offer to his husband. Wherever the night was taking him, he was thrilled to go if Gimli led the way. That is, until Gimli stepped closer to take the sash from his hand and Legolas, having him suddenly within reach, had to refrain from dropping his hand to Gimli’s wasit, pulling him close, and kissing the breath from his lungs. He didn’t even get to feel the brush of Gimli’s fingers against his own. His horrible, devious husband took the sash by its tails before reaching behind his own head to tie back his wild mane of red-brown curls. The green silk bow nestled primly in Gimli’s hair as he sauntered to the wardrobe and bent to locate a small bottle. That motion was too deliberate. Horrible evil tease of a dwarf. To show in such explicit relief that perfect ass when Legolas wasn’t allowed to bury his face in it, lick him open and- he couldn’t keep thinking that way. If he did he would have to touch himself before long, and he didn’t know if he could keep to the second rule of tonight - no coming until Gimli says so.

The dwarf turned, already oiling up his palm. But instead of lowering his hand to his cock, he rubbed it slowly over his chest. A satisfied smirk began to curl his lips as Legolas froze, his eyes ensnared in the glistening highlights adorning his husband’s muscles and the thick, luxurious hair on his chest. Languid posture forgotten, Legolas leaned forward in his seat again, eagerly hunting out every gleam and glisten of Gimli’s skin as his hands continued their leisurely journey over every inch of his body. Another fiery jolt shot through him as Gimli rubbed into the cleft of his ass. Legolas knew all too well the feeling of that tight, perfect pucker loosening beneath his fingertips. Gimli gave a little gasp and sigh at the feeling, still rubbing himself open with oil-slick fingers, and Legolas felt his cock twitch in sympathy and perhaps some anticipation. Then his husband turned and sauntered back over, his presence pressing Legolas back into his chair in a helpless sprawl as he tried valiantly to grab neither Gimli nor himself. He dug his nails into the arms of the chair in his effort to resist, and was again rewarded (or perhaps punished, it was getting harder to tell) with an intimate view of his husband’s fist closing around his own cock and stroking at the same measured pace he had kept all evening. The groan that rumbled from Gimli’s chest felt like fire under Legolas’s skin. Dimly, he noticed that without the belt his robe had fallen open to expose his own erection where it strained, untouched, up onto his stomach.

“Such a pretty cock,” Gimli purred, “going to touch it for me?”

“I dare not,” Legolas breathed, “it may be the end of me.” Any other night, the way Gimli pressed his dick forward, thumbing lightly over the slit and down the shaft, would have been an invitation. Tonight, like everything else he had done, it was a tease - a carefully calculated taunt reminding Legolas of his helplessness. He barely suppressed a whine as his hips rocked up of their own accord. “See what you’ve done to me already?”

“Tell me, love. Do you want to touch?”

“Please!” The word burst forth almost before the question was out. He thrust up again, practically writhing beneath Gimli’s stare.

“Hmm. I wasn’t done yet, but you’re just so lovely I may have to cut my performance short. Would you give up your reward just to get that pretty little cock in my mouth?” This time Legolas did whine, but Gimli didn’t seem to be looking for a real answer. He receded, leaving the elf still plastered to his chair, digging deep nail marks into its arms and wishing for the sweltering pressure of his presence again. 

When he reappeared in Legolas’s line of sight, Gimli was carrying a small stool and a certain toy which made Legolas’s stomach drop. The consummate performer, he arranged himself so that, with one foot up on the stool, his cock was still visible in its full, tantalizing glory over his thigh. But the real show was presented straight to Legolas as Gimli reached back and returned to rubbing himself. He sighed and moaned as he worked himself loose. Then he slipped the first finger in, letting his head fall back and his body still, reveling in the pleasure. Legolas couldn’t help it. At that glorious sight - his husband glistening in the lamplight and fucking himself open, on display for his consumption - his hand flew to his own cock. He trailed his fingers through the mess of pre-come on his belly, slicking them enough to stroke soft and lazy as Gimli worked up to using the toy. When he finally slipped it inside himself, moaning and grinding back in a wanton show of pleasure, Legolas paused. He timed his own strokes with the thrusts Gimli gave himself and hoped (a little petulantly) that the toy was as poor a substitute for his cock as his own hand was for the heat of his husband’s body around it. Evidently able to read his mind, Gimli stopped, set the toy aside, and tossed a playful look over his shoulder.

“I’m yours if you want me, elf.”

Legolas did not need telling twice.


End file.
